by Clare Murray
Abby grunted as she was hauled to a sitting position. Managing to balance herself, she looked around for a clock. The red digital display in the corner read 5:02.
What the…?
“You don’t seem to be much of a morning person.” Russ’s voice was warm yet brisk. Something was up.
“M’not. Whaz wrong?” Abby rubbed her eyes.
“Need you to access the Fed system,” Russ said. “There’s a major problem, and we need to figure out what’s going on. Or try to, at least.”
“All right.” She scrubbed at her face, swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I’m up.”
The light in the hallway was mercifully dim. She belted the fluffy bathrobe Russ draped over her, walking into the communal area. Cam entered the room from the opposite side, carrying the backpack containing the stolen equipment from Headquarters. He set it down on the table, face grim.
“The Triplets are prepping to evacuate or fight,” he said. “Worse comes to worst, we all pile in the van and head north, head for the next safe place. It’s not long until dawn, so we won’t be in critical danger from the aliens.”
“Uh.” She tried to process that as Cam pulled a chair out for her and plumped the bag into her lap. She sifted through the devices until she found the newest-looking commtab. That would do.
“Okay, what’s going on?” She looked up at the men.
“Plot on President Wright’s life,” was Russ’s stark reply. “Will you be able to connect to anything down here? There’s no wireless access, obviously.”
“I think I can wire it up if there’s a compatible port.” Abby left the commtab powered off, examining the surveillance cameras. Hesitating a moment, she unplugged the one overlooking the vegetable patch. Good thing the commtabs were backward compatible—this place was wired with relatively ancient Ethernet cables.
“If I get in quick, I think I can throw them off my scent for a while,” she muttered out loud, plugging the cable into the commtab and turning it on.
“What?” Cam asked.
“They’ll see I logged in, but if I…” She trailed off, giving in to the machine’s immediate demands for a retinal scan, thumbprint and voice verification. Quickly, she tapped the screen, going into safemode to change her current location to Columbus, Ohio. That was close enough to confound them if they managed to pick up a reading on her location, yet far enough away for a semblance of safety.
“Okay, so what am I looking for? Plot on the president? Communications, I guess.” She narrated her actions, pulling up email trails. Most of it was mere administration, complete with ranting about how she’d screwed up their system beyond easy repair. She skimmed a few, wincing at the mention of servants. One internal mail was entitled Servant Rations, which made her snarl. The slop they’d gotten was hardly worth being called food.
Now that she was in, she wanted to delve deeper, find out how and why the Shadow Feds had gone down the road of indentured servitude. Did it stem from lack of willingness to pay in proper room and board? Was it because these people were drunk on power?
She suspected it was down to sheer paranoia. That—combined with absolute power—led to the senators doing pretty much anything they wanted within Headquarters. Out and about, of course, they were more cautious. That was probably why indentured servants hadn’t been allowed off premises.
Abby shook her head and tapped through another ten messages, disregarding ones that originated over a week ago.
“Here we go.” She skimmed the first two lines of a promising-looking email. “Code Platinum?”
The Twins nearly knocked heads jumping for the commtab. She sat back and let them skim the screen, their faces identically dour as they read. Funny that they were so well-educated yet didn’t seem all that comfortable around technology. The way Russ was scrolling through the message was oddly hesitant, his normal confidence diminished. Had the scientists limited their screen time or something?
She voiced that thought when the men put the commtab on the table, and Russ nodded immediately. “Yeah, it plays into the whole trust thing. There are scientists who regard Multiples as a…well, mixture between AI and animals. They weren’t about to give us free rein to screw around with tech in case we learned how to hack in to their precious secrets.”
“From what I gleaned over the conversation last night, it’s too late to worry about that. Isn’t that why the Triplets are in such trouble?”
Cam snorted. “Didn’t figure you to be aware of much last night.”
“Actually, I was half asleep. All I heard was the hacking part and some alien theory.”
Both men somehow turned grimmer. “Don’t repeat that,” Russ said. “Ever.”
Abby shrugged. “I don’t know what to repeat. All I remember is the Triplets saying something about aliens being related to dogs in more ways than one. But we knew that already.”
“It goes deeper than that,” Cam said. “We’ll discuss it later, all right? Look, you’d better read this and log out.”
She was being invited to read the email? After they’d talked about blindfolds and secrecy and all that crap? Abby had intentionally not read past the first few lines. But Cam was offering her the commtab, so she bent forward, simultaneously excited about being fully involved and dreading reading what was on the screen.
“Shit, they have a missile trained on Chicago?” she blurted a minute later.
“Yep. Therefore, Code Platinum.” Russ took the commtab back, nodding to Cam to continue the explanation.
“The next two messages give the location, and time of launch is set to be around oh fourteen hundred hours today. That’s two o’clock. This missile is short-range, and any launcher will have to be portable. So that gives us a radius of…”
Abby short-circuited as the smell of coffee reached her, crawling into her nostrils and curling up like the Ghost of Mornings Past. Openmouthed, she turned toward the kitchen, where one of the Triplets was busy pouring steaming liquid into mugs. He brought a tray over to the table, joined by his brothers.
It was yet another point of normality in a sea of uncertainty, a normality Abby eagerly embraced. There was sugar available, but no milk. Even so, she savored the smell of her coffee, remembering her mother’s love for the stuff early each morning.
Mom would have loved this moment.
“Yeah, they’re launching from an obvious point. Easily accessible from the highway,” Russ was saying, jamming his finger onto his own commtab, which was currently displaying a map. “That might also explain the truck Valentino witnessed earlier. If it does, we won’t be all that far behind them.”
“Makes sense,” Cam said. He quaffed the rest of his coffee. “I’ll go make the report to General Coniston. Rest of you might as well savor the moment.”
The commtab from Headquarters bleeped an inactivity warning, drawing her attention. Damn, she hadn’t logged out. Not that logging out was critical, since she’d masked her location, but it was risky all the same. Abby paged out of emails, intending to take a quick look around the system. She folded out the attached keyboard, amused that she’d managed to score one of the nicest—and rarest—commtab models. That was an extra fuck you to Headquarters, a parting shot she was still mildly gleeful about.
Two users online flashed in the upper left-hand corner.
Abby typed a /whois command and the response was instant.
Root, SenHGreen.
She reacted as if scalded, curling her fingers into fists. Seconds later, the first instant message came through.
I SEE YOU, WHORE. THINK I FORGOT ABOUT WHAT YOU DID?
Abby set her coffee down. Blinked long and slow. No, Senator Green wasn’t a man to give up. She’d never pegged him as one. But to pursue her like this?
I’LL NEVER FORGET. YOU’LL GET WHAT’S COMING TO YOU.
“Abby?” Russ leaned in, probably drawn b
y the expression on her face. “Oh, hell no. Give me that, baby.”
“Don’t type anything,” she whispered.
You didn’t engage trolls, didn’t feed them. The only way to win was to ignore them—at least outwardly. That was the advice in the days before. Was it different now?
“We’re not going to give that bastard the time of day,” Russ said. “I’m logging you out. You don’t need to see that shit. Not now. Not ever.”
Abby watched him power down the device through a sheen of tears. She tended to wear her heart on her sleeve, letting her emotions surge to the forefront without seeking to suppress them. Right now was no exception—but she was unprepared to be pulled into a warm lap and half-crushed against Russ’s chest.
When she let out a sob, she heard the Triplets flee. But Russ stayed firm, one hand splayed against the middle of her back, the other stroking her hair. He was murmuring something not quite intelligible, soothing words. Once she calmed down, she listened to what he was saying.
“It’s okay to be angry,” he told her. “You don’t have to hide it. You don’t have to lock it away from us.”
Abby wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve, sniffled. “Am I angry?”
“I’d be furious, were I in your shoes. I’m not here to tell you how to feel, though. I just want you to know it’s fine to be pissed off. Nobody’s gonna tell you to simmer down. Nobody’s gonna tell you not to worry your pretty little head about this either, because this is a bad situation.”
When she thought about it, she realized he was right. Her fear did stem from anger—a breathless, helpless fury women were taught from an early age not to acknowledge but to internalize. She’d often turned it inward, blaming herself. But she wouldn’t blame herself for Senator Green’s actions. She was going to fight back—and she hoped he didn’t expect it.
“It is a bad situation,” she whispered. His words were stark in their truthfulness, yet they lent her a kind of courage. So did his next words.
“We’ll be by your side every step of the way, Abby. Now drink your coffee. We can’t stay here much longer.”
“They didn’t track us,” she said, feeling the way his body tensed.
“You sure?”
“Positive.” She let her lips curve a little. “They traced the signal from the last commtab because it was on continuously for hours and kept pinging satellites. But as admin, I was able to obscure our location. They can’t do anything about that. And since I destroyed a bunch of their stuff, Headquarters is operating low-tech from now on.”
Unless they successfully raided the Complex.
The thought hung between them, unspoken. Then Russ set her down gently on a separate chair, his eyes distant. Communicating with Cam? She reached for her coffee, trying to savor it despite a roiling stomach. She managed to finish the last gulp, but shook her head when Russ asked if she wanted food.
In truth, she was no longer used to rich fare. Last night’s meal plus this morning’s coffee would hold her until midday. So she headed back to the bedroom, undressed and stepped into the shower, letting blessedly hot water sluice across her head and back. There was ancient shampoo in a corner, but she ignored that in favor of a homemade-looking bar of soap, which smelled fairly neutral yet sudsed her up nicely. The Triplets had probably made it, given their penchant for all things homey.
When she emerged from the fogged-up glass cubicle, she gasped. Cam lounged in the steam, waiting for her with an outstretched towel. He wrapped her inside so tenderly it made her heart ache.
Abby rested a wet forehead against his bare chest. “Do we need to rush away from here?”
“Nope. Not after your stellar hacking, sweet thing.”
“I’m not really a hacker.” It was true. She knew her way around tech, having built computers from scratch and taken programming classes after school. Sure, computers had been a passion of hers, but there’d been people out there with more knowledge than Abby Brooks.
Of course, that had been in the time before. For all she knew, ninety percent of them had been killed and she was the now ultimate post-Invasion hacker.
“You know enough to be dangerous,” Cam said. “That’s good enough.”
“Depends. They might not be able to stop the missile in time.”
Cam coughed. “About that…”
She stepped back, eyebrows raised. “What?”
“There’s nobody else close by. So orders are for us to proceed to the launch site and sabotage the launch.”
Chapter Nine
The only way this would suck more, Abby reflected, was if they’d taken the van. She watched the world roll by, grateful that the massive wheels of the Humvee cushioned her from most of the road’s lumps and bumps.
Well, the Twins cushioned her too, but they were silent, focused on the task that lay ahead. She almost didn’t dare break the silence. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Russ fiddle with his commtab. She’d surreptitiously read most of his messages, gleaning information as they traveled. The messages sounded strained enough for her to think everyone was pretty damn concerned about the situation.
“There are more of us heading to the area,” Russ said, as if reading her thoughts. He turned his head, looking down at her. “Cam tried to talk the general out of sending us, but we’re the closest to the launch site. The Triplets are on their way to a potential alternate launch site, in case the Shadow Feds change plans at the last minute.”
“What about just bombing them?” Abby asked.
“The general won’t risk air support since the missile could easily take down a plane. He wants us to strike quietly and quickly. Sabotage things and get away.” Cam kept his eyes on the road while he talked. “Reading between the lines, I’d say he’s got most of our trained pilots supporting the president while they evacuate her.”
“She’s being evacuated? I thought Chicago was as safe as you can get these days.”
“It’s a necessary precaution. There’s a few different spots they can take her—all of them apparently extremely secure. The missile we think the Feds have has a sizeable payload—enough to wipe out nearly a quarter of Chicago. If President Wright is in the wrong spot at the wrong time, that’s lights out.”
Abby nodded. She could understand the caution—especially since the vice president was a weak man who couldn’t unify a sports team, let alone a fragmented country. She glanced at the bag leaning against Russ’s feet. They’d taken the looted commtabs along.
She frowned. “Senator Green saw me logged on. Did you mention that in your report?”
“Yep.” Cam navigated them around an abandoned car, eyes sharp as he scanned for a potential ambush.
“Okay, so this could be a trap,” Abby said. “That was a recent email trail I was following, and Senator Green knew I was logged into the system, even if he couldn’t trace my precise location. This might be designed to lure me to their operatives.”
“Us,” Cam corrected. He flashed her a quick, tight smile. “They have it in for you, of course, but they’d give multiple eyeteeth to kill a pair of Twins.”
“It could be a trap, but there’s a strong possibility it’s not,” Russ said, steering them back on topic. “We can’t afford to call their bluff—if there is a bluff. If we didn’t respond, and they blow a hole in Chicago’s wall…”
Abby blanched. “Okay. Let’s get there and…um, dismantle the missile or whatever stops them.”
“We’ll need to case the area first,” Russ said. “Abby, you’ll need to sysop the entire time and warn us if anything changes. Can you do that without them pinpointing your location?”
“I can do it without them even noticing I’m online.” She’d poked around long enough to figure out how to mask her presence in the system. The Shadow Feds had two choices—scrap their entire system, or work with what they had for as long as they could. Understandably
, they’d chosen the latter. There were plenty of personal commtabs floating around in Headquarters. Enough for them not to torpedo internal emails just yet.
Still, they weren’t stupid. They’d keep working, find a way to wipe her off their servers. If she had constant access, she might be able to keep thwarting their attempts at rebuilding. For now, she could override their commands, because she was sole admin—but she wouldn’t always be able to see their commands.
She explained as much to the men and thought she saw the lines of Russ’s face relax a touch. When he cuddled her to him, she leaned into his warmth with a soft sigh. Judging by the map in front of Cam, they had a fair way to travel. So she closed her eyes and let herself drift off, safe in the knowledge that Russ would wake her if things got hairy.
Abby was dreaming about being on a boat when she registered Russ stroking her hair. This time she woke almost immediately, clutching briefly at his arm when he set her upright in her seat. They were still in the Humvee, but the engine was off and they were in what looked like a secluded area. The overgrown path behind them was chock-full of deep ruts. That explained her dream.
She scrubbed at her face. The view through the tinted windshield would have made a good Norman Rockwell painting, save for the peeling paint on the clearly abandoned barn they were parked next to.
And, to be fair, its lack of roof.
“We’re here?” she asked.
“Yep.” Cam clicked his seat belt off. “An hour ahead of schedule. I took the back way around what’s a pretty damn deserted area. I’m ninety-eight percent confident we weren’t seen.”
“Ninety-eight percent?”
“They could have a solar-powered drone patrolling the area.”
“Great,” Abby muttered. She reached into the bag at Russ’s feet and pulled out the commtab she’d been using.
“What are you doing?” Russ asked.
“Disabling the drone.” She logged on, confident that she was invisible to the casual user. Even so, Senator Green’s name in the online list gave her a chill. She tabbed through various areas, a little self-conscious under the Twins’ fascinated gazes.
